Abandon Read online

  Zenn

  4. The day Vi tapped on my window changed everything. Well, if we’re gonna be all technical, and I guess we are, the window tapping happened at night.

  Which was why she got busted.

  She was only twelve years old. The infraction didn’t go on her Official Record, but it tattooed itself on my memory.

  Vi shouldn’t have meant anything to me. I knew her because she lived six minutes away in the City of Water, and we were in the same year at school. But our relationship shouldn’t have progressed past us being two kids who were the same age.

  I’d just turned thirteen, and I’d just returned from meeting Jag Barque in the Abandoned Area. I’d snuck in through the back door, returned to my bedroom, and checked my false transmission feed when the tap, tap, tap landed on the glass.

  My heart pounded in my scrawny chest.

  Maybe They’d been monitoring me. Maybe They knew I wasn’t listening to the transmissions. I’d screwed up after only a few days of helping the anti-Thinker movement. The Resistance, my dad had called it.

  Insider Tip #2: Don’t hesitate. It shows weakness and indecision. Those who hesitate often have something to hide.

  I took a deep breath and accepted whatever was gonna happen. I strode to the window and yanked it up, expecting to see a Special Forces agent with glinting black eyes and a fully charged taser.

  Instead, I found Violet Schoenfeld. I could tell she’d been crying, even if the tears were already dried up. The full moon cast glimmers of white light in her brown hair.

  “Violet?” I scanned the yard behind her. Empty. A hovercopter floated along the edge of the Centrals, a couple miles away.

  “Zenn, I—” She cast a quick glance over her shoulder.

  “You’re gonna be seen,” I whispered. “Climb up.” I reached out to help her but drew back before we touched. That was against the rules, and the window was wide open so anyone could see.

  Violet used to answer questions in class, used to show up to school with her panels done. She used to hang with the other girls during breaks. Then her dad disappeared. She’d withdrawn, and now that we’d moved into secondary subjects, she sat alone against the fence during breaks and hadn’t turned in homework for months. She didn’t speak to anyone except her sister Tyson.

  I didn’t even know she knew my name, let alone where I lived. Maybe she was searching for any window that looked like there might be someone awake within.

  She struggled over the windowsill while I stood there and watched. I could’ve pulled up all ninety pounds of her with one hand. She straightened, and I towered at least six inches over her.

  Her face was the color of uncooked rice. Her eyes were a mixture of blue and green, like the serene color of the lake. Her brown hair flowed freely over her shoulders, but it should’ve been secured in its customary ponytail or bun.

  She was crazy-beautiful, even with tearstained cheeks. And then it hit me: A girl was standing in my room. In the middle of the night.

  I’d been away from my transmissions for hours. My older brother had developed tech that could simulate sleep patterns, but I wondered how Violet had managed to trick hers long enough to leave her house.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I shouldn’t be here.” She paced next to my bed.

  I glanced at my brother, a decent sleeper, fifteen feet from us. “It’s fine.” I wanted to touch her shoulder, make her stop walking. Her squeaky shoes were going to wake my brother. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing,” she said.

  “Nothing?” I repeated.

  “Ty told me . . . It’s nothing.”

  I folded my arms. “If it’s nothing, can you stop pacing? You’re gonna wake Fret.”

  She stopped and took a deep breath. “It’s my mom,” she whispered. “She hates me for not being Ty.” Violet’s voice began to rush. “And I just couldn’t take it anymore. I had to get out. Oh, it’s so late.” She threw a glance at my bedside clock, her eyes wild. “I’m going to be in so much trouble.”

  “You’re safe here,” I lied, wishing it were true. But my smart house would rat her out if she didn’t leave soon. Extra body temperature and oxygen usage and all that.

  Violet moved toward the window. “You’ll get in trouble,” she said, climbing out.

  “Wait!”

  The hovercopter had already spotlighted her. The mechanical voice shouted for her to freeze. I shrank back into the shadows, terror thumping through my veins.

  She sprinted toward the bushes in my backyard, but no one escapes from a hovercopter.

  Like a coward, I slammed the window and drew the blinds. I peeked through two slats, watching the Special Forces agent interrogate her. She didn’t cry. Her fists clenched and unclenched, and she accepted the citation without a word.

  The hovercopter zipped away, and that’s when Violet crumpled to the ground. Her shoulders shook with racking sobs.

  Then I did what any thirteen-year-old boy would do: I dropped the shades and crawled into bed.

  * * *

  Saffediene Brown sat immediately to my right, frantically writing a report for Jag. Though we were the same age, she reminded me of myself when I first began serving the Resistance. She’d joined a month after I’d arrived in Freedom.

  In fact, Saffediene had been my first recruit for the Insiders.

  She finished writing, folded the paper, and put her hand on mine. I shook my thoughts away from Vi and that first night in my bedroom and jerked at the contact from Saffediene. She pulled her hand back and hid it under the table. Her eyes flickered to mine, a small smile playing on her face.

  “Zenn?” she said, still watching me. Just like everyone else was doing.

  “Indy and her team are drinking protein like there’s no tomorrow,” I said, stuffing my hand in my pocket as I stood. My skin felt hot where Saffediene had touched me. “They’ll be on mandatory rest this week, and then we’ll get them into rotations for duties.”

  I nodded toward Pace, who stood and started droning on about some new tech he’d invented that would eliminate the squealing in new implants. When Thane had first brought me beyond the wall of Freedom to this cavern, I’d barely recognized Pace.

  The smile that used to come quickly to his lips now took longer. His eyes were dull, and Pace’s long, silver hair didn’t get washed enough, but I suspected that wasn’t the only reason for its lackluster appearance.

  When Tyson Schoenfeld died, a big piece of Pace Barque did too. I’d been present when she’d been killed, but the memories of those weeks are shrouded. I’d been brainwashed and medicated, with only moments of lucidity.

  Thane had told me the story of Ty’s death. It had aged him too, though I didn’t comfort him. The first time I saw Pace here in the hideout, though, I had gripped him in a hug that said more than We’re on the same team.

  It had said, Please forgive me. I did what I thought was right. I miss Ty too.

  He’d understood, and he’d freely given his forgiveness—something Jag sucked at doing. I watched Pace now and noticed he’d revived a bit since Jag’s return. I was reminded of when I first joined the Resistance, when Pace and Jag would embrace after months apart. They’d laugh about Irvine’s seriousness and throw wads of paper at Indy as she snored on the couch.

  I longed for the more carefree days of the Resistance, when the thought of battling the Thinkers only happened in our imaginations. It was easier then to feel like They were robbing the general population of their free will. I’d believed in the cause of the Resistance with my whole heart. No one should have to conform to a job, a marriage, a life they hated simply because someone with persuasive powers deemed it so.

  So the Resistance fought talent with talent. They had Thinkers. So did we. They had voice talent. So did we. They also had vastly more personnel, many and diverse ways to find our strongholds, and untold resources.

  We had Jag Barque.

  Back before I turned Informant, me, Pace, and Jag would sit arou
nd the kitchen table in Jag’s house, making grand plans and playing cards. Sure, we ran minor missions, sent messages, and attended training in Seaside with Vi’s older sister, Tyson.

  Ty had the unique ability to make you think you were the most important person in the world. Vi had worshipped her. I’d rescued Ty from the Goodgrounds, helped her through the desert to the Badlands, and passed her off to Jag. Pace had been there, and I still remember the first time he met Ty.

  I was young—a few months shy of fourteen—and rescuing Ty was my first solo mission for the Resistance. But I recognized the light on Pace’s face. I’d seen my dad look at my mom with that brightness that said, The person standing in front of me could change my life.

  As Pace spoke now, here in this dingy cavern, it was clear that his easiness had been lost with Ty. He caught me watching him, and I half smiled. He seemed to understand what I was thinking and lowered his head slightly.

  After Pace finished his update, Vi stood up and began assigning every member of Indy’s team to one of our existing crew. I imagined how I must look, gazing at Vi the same way Pace had looked at Ty all those years ago. I couldn’t help it.

  “Someone to show them around, help them on watch, you know, orient them to our life here,” she said.

  And what a crazy-lame life we live inside this blasted cavern. I didn’t say it out loud, but Vi cut me a hard look anyway.

  After Vi sat, Saffediene got to her feet. “Gunner and I have assembled new two-person traveling teams for assignments in the Midwestern Region. You’ll leave tonight.” She listed off partnerships, and I glanced at her when she read my name with Gunn’s.

  Another trip to another unknown city. Half of me rejoiced. The other half died a bit more.

  Before Saffediene finished her assignments, Jag burst into the cavern with Gunn two steps behind him.

  “Cancel everything,” Jag commanded. “Hightower has Thane, and we need to rescue him before eleven tomorrow morning.”

  Jag

  5. “I need you with Vi,” I said for the third time. The meeting had broken up, and I’d gone from room to room giving assignments. Zenn had followed me back here to my quarters, breathing reasons he couldn’t go to Freedom.

  “You’ve been assigned to protect Vi,” I said again. “You should be happy about that.”

  Zenn stood in front of me, his mouth a thin line of disapproval. I didn’t get his hating-me thing. It’s not my fault he defected, left Vi alone so she had to break rules to meet him, or that she got thrown into my prison cell.

  I could’ve done without Zenn defecting. Everyone could have. But I’ve never been sorry for Vi’s rule breaking or that I had to “endure” jail time with her.

  “We have an appointment in Harvest,” Zenn said—for the third time.

  “Stop trying to get out of going on this mission,” I said, fighting back my voice power. “You want to play the hero, just admit it. Right now I need my hero in Freedom, to rescue Thane.” I stripped off my filthy shirt and replaced it with a less filthy one.

  “This has nothing to do with heroics.”

  “And,” I continued, almost yelling, “everyone knows you’re in love with Vi, and I’m assigning you to protect her.”

  His jaw tightened; his fists flexed. A bolt of satisfaction sang at the back of my throat. “It’s what we both want,” I said, stepping closer. He blocked the doorway of my bedroom, and I had forty thousand things to get ready for the mission.

  “I can’t go back there,” Zenn said, his gaze dropping to the floor. The muscles worked in his neck. “You don’t know what Director Hightower’s like.”

  “Trust me,” I said, “I do.” Zenn had no idea what my life was like. Where I’d been for those eight months while he and Vi fell in love all over again. No one did.

  That’s how I liked it. Removing myself from everyone and everything helped me keep people out. That way I could do what needed to be done for the Resistance.

  No emotional attachments. That’s why I didn’t try too hard to explain anything to Indy and then brought her brother, Irvine, with me on the mission into the Goodgrounds. She didn’t understand that, sometimes, being the leader of the Resistance required me to make difficult decisions. It was better to be completely detached from everyone.

  “Except for Vi.” Zenn didn’t have to say it, but he did. The pain in his voice was poorly masked. He hadn’t even tried. Sure, he was in my head, which annoyed me, but he was acknowledging something he’d rather ignore.

  The fight went out of me. “Except for Vi,” I conceded. “I’d change things if I could, Zenn. So many things.”

  I felt rather than heard or saw his defeated acceptance. An understanding passed between us.

  “You might still make your appointment,” I said. “We’ll get Thane out, and you and Gunner can fly all night.”

  “Fine. But you get to tell Vi she’s riding in the backseat on this one,” he said. “She’s gonna be mad as hell.”

  “Fair enough.” I followed him into the hall, already dreading the argument I would have with Vi. “And Zenn, you are strong enough to resist this time.”

  * * *

  I found Vi in her room, her face already closed to any discussion. I smothered a sigh and sat next to her on the cot. We both studied the floor. “So, we’re going into Freedom.”

  “So I heard,” she said. What she meant was, I didn’t hear it from you.

  “You’ve been assigned to Zenn. You guys will fly mid-pack and stay out of trouble.” What I meant was, I’m assigning you to Zenn. Ride behind him and keep your mouth shut.

  The silence in the room said it all. Her anger. Her defiance. Vi didn’t like being told what to do.

  “Do I have your permission to speak?” she snapped.

  “Oh, brother,” I said. “Say whatever the hell you want. It’s not going to change my decision.”

  “I hate how you boss me around,” she said.

  I stood up. “I hate how you doubt all my decisions,” I fired back. “I’m the cracking leader of the cracking Resistance.”

  She shot to her feet too. “I’m more than just another one of your Insiders. I’m your girlfriend.”

  My stomach clenched. Didn’t she get it? That was exactly why she had to fly mid-pack and stay out of trouble. Sometimes her stubbornness amazed me. I glared at her a moment longer before heading toward the door.

  “Stay with Zenn. Mid-pack.” I left her simmering—okay, boiling—in her room. Zenn had been right—Vi was mad as hell. But you know what? I’d do what it took to keep her safe. Losing her was a risk I wasn’t willing to take.

  * * *

  Gunner spent the afternoon detailing the layout of Freedom for the group. We didn’t have customizable p-screens underground. So Gunn painted a picture of Freedom with words. He spoke in that way that commanded people to listen, using a Thinker’s voice but not its brainwashing ability.

  People listened to Gunner because of his quiet steadiness. I’d felt his determination and strength the first time I met him, even though I’d been strapped to a bed at the time. Now I could also feel the myriad of emotions teeming beneath his calm exterior. Because the girl he loved, Raine Hightower, was still trapped inside Freedom.

  More than once he’d voiced to me that Raine’s father wasn’t afraid to do horrific things to his own daughter. Gunn never cried, but his desperation to get her out, protect her, never faded. I’d felt an immediate connection to him, because I felt the same way about Vi.

  Neither of us could protect the people we loved, and it was killing us.

  I listened to him talk about how Freedom was designed on a grid, and how navigating toward the tallest building shouldn’t be too troublesome. Indy and Vi seemed the most interested. The rest of us knew the general layout. Gunn waved his hand, talking about Rise One situated in the middle of the Rise-canyons.

  He paused, and I wanted to get up and clap him on the shoulder. Tell him to escape and have a good cry over Raine. Tell him to be hone
st with himself for a change. Instead I simply watched as he composed himself and said, “The techtric barrier presents the biggest problem.”

  “It’s not a problem,” I said. “It’s a monumental issue.” Everyone swung their attention to me. Beyond that, guards and seeker-spiders would likely present another obstacle. And Enforcement Officers equipped with tasers and various special talents.

  “So how do we get past it?” Zenn asked.

  I had no genius ideas, so we labored over how to breach the barrier without the loss of life and/or an earsplitting alarm.

  “What about coming in over the water?” Saffediene suggested.

  Even Vi, who’d been simmering against the wall for the better part of the meeting, gave her full attention to the newbie.

  “The water?” Zenn asked, shifting closer to her. He favored Saffediene because she was his first recruit. He’d always said she was smarter than us all.

  “Yeah,” she said, taking a few seconds to think. “The ocean. We can fly straight east from here, over the water.”

  The tension in the room skyrocketed. Most of it originated from Gunner, though Vi didn’t seem too happy about the flying-over-water thing either.

  “What’s the problem?” I asked him. I used to fly over the ocean, playing hoverball with my brothers.

  “I don’t know how to swim,” Gunner said.

  “Last time I was in the water, I passed out,” Vi added.

  I cocked an eyebrow—a story of Vi’s I hadn’t heard. It sounded like an interesting one at that.

  “You won’t be in the water,” Saffediene said, glancing at Zenn. When his mouth twitched upward, she continued. “Just flying over it.”

  “Still,” Vi said.

  “The water is strictly off-limits in Freedom,” Zenn said. “No one knows how to swim. The Thinkers set it up that way so the population won’t try to escape. They don’t even know what boats are.” He kept his eyes locked on Saffediene as he spoke.

  “We don’t need boats,” she argued. “We have hoverboards.”

  “We’ll have two extra passengers. Maybe more.”